Four days later, Keifer was discharged.
His shoulder had healed enough.
But something else hadn't.
The investigation confirmed it.
The fire was no accident.
It led back to one person.
His father.
And the next move proved it.
His father's men tried to approach his younger brothers.
They didn't succeed.
But that was enough.
Keifer handled it personally.
And when he walked into Watson Enterprises the next morning—
The entire floor went silent.
His suit was immaculate.
His expression unreadable.
But his knuckles—
Bruised.
Split.
Blood still faintly staining his skin.
He didn't slow down.
Didn't greet anyone.
Didn't look at anyone.
He went straight to his office.
Jay saw everything.
Her stomach dropped.
She walked quickly toward one of the staff members.
"First aid kit," she said.
The employee hesitated.
"Miss Mariano… maybe don't go in right now."
"I need the first aid kit."
"Sir doesn't—"
"Please."
Her tone wasn't loud.
But it was firm.
The employee swallowed and handed it to her.
Jay didn't wait another second.
Inside His Office
He was leaning back in his chair.
Eyes closed.
Head tilted slightly upward.
His hands resting on the armrests.
Knuckles bruised badly.
Fresh cuts.
She closed the door quietly behind her.
He didn't move.
She walked toward him slowly.
Then without saying anything—
She knelt in front of him.
Opened the first aid kit.
And gently took his hand.
His eyes opened instantly.
For a split second, they were sharp.
Alert.
Dangerous.
Then he saw her.
And everything softened.
"Jay…" he murmured.
She didn't look up.
"Why are you bleeding?"
Silence.
She carefully poured antiseptic onto cotton.
When it touched his cut, his jaw tightened slightly.
"You fought them," she said quietly.
Not a question.
A statement.
"Yes."
Her fingers were steady.
Careful.
"You shouldn't have gone alone."
"I didn't."
She wrapped gauze around his knuckles slowly.
"They went near my brothers."
Her hands paused.
Then continued.
Her voice softened.
"Are they okay?"
"Yes."
She nodded slightly, relief passing through her expression.
He watched her the entire time.
Not stopping her.
Not pulling away.
Just watching.
Her fingers were gentle.
Like he wasn't the most dangerous man in the city.
Like he was something fragile.
"You didn't even clean this properly," she muttered softly.
"I was busy."
"With bleeding?"
That made the corner of his mouth twitch faintly.
She finally looked up at him.
And when their eyes met—
The anger in his had changed.
It wasn't rage anymore.
It was exhaustion.
And something else.
Something protective.
"You scared me," she admitted quietly.
He leaned forward slightly.
One of his uninjured hands moved instinctively to her waist.
Not forceful.
Just grounding.
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine."
Her fingers brushed lightly over his bruised knuckles after bandaging them.
"You don't have to carry everything alone."
He looked at her for a long moment.
Then gently lifted her from kneeling so she was standing between his knees.
His hands rested on her waist now.
Warmer.
Steadier.
"I don't want him anywhere near you," he said quietly.
She placed her hand over his heart.
"Then don't let him win by turning you into something worse."
Silence.
His forehead rested lightly against her stomach for a brief second.
A rare moment.
One no one else would ever see.
When he looked up again—
The rage was still there.
But controlled.
Because of her.
"Thank you," he said softly.
Not for the bandage.
For staying.
She brushed her thumb lightly over his cheek.
"Next time, at least let someone clean the blood before you walk into the office."
A faint smirk.
"Yes, ma'am."
And for the first time that day—
The tension in the room eased.
Just a little.